


no ballad will be written

by stardusting



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, DGM Big Bang 2018, Falling In Love, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardusting/pseuds/stardusting
Summary: A god falling in love with a god is expected, a human falling in love with a god is a tragedy, and a god falling in love with a human, well, Lavi supposes they don’t have an exact way to describe that yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for the DGM Big Bang; it was a labor of love, and I'm very happy with how it turned out! I hope you all enjoy it.

There are two gentle raps against his door, delicate enough not to be annoying yet loud enough to actually catch his attention. There are very few in Pantheon polite enough to still knock that way or knock at all for that matter.

“Come in.” Lavi calls, rubbing his uncovered eye with the tips of his fingers, making sure to use the hand not completely covered in pen ink. He’s glad for the momentary distraction; the words started to blur in the page, languages started to get mixed up in his head.

Lenalee enters the threshold of his book and paper covered room, only the briefest of sighs escaping as she steps over a small stack of newspapers on the floor. She’s known Lavi long enough to realize that any insistence that he organizes his space will go completely over his head and be ignored. So, she stopped trying and now handles it with the same grace she does everything else.

“How long have you been cooped up in here?” She asks after hopping over a few more piles to get to his desk. There’s a concerned furrow between her brows as she examines Lavi’s face.

He gives a vague noise rather than an articulated answer. Time isn’t something Lavi keeps track of much anymore, more focused on the broader expanse of history, that smaller things such as seconds, minutes, and hours don’t register as relevant on most days.

“Well, I haven’t seen you in a while.” Lenalee leans her hips against the arm of the chair. There’s no scolding or disappointment in her tone, just a matter of fact statement.

It’s often that Lavi retreats into the deep recesses of the Pantheon because history and knowledge are constantly changing and being made. His domains are busy ones, one of the busiest some might say, so his time is often spent split between his own room and one of the numerous libraries in order to keep everything organized and up to standard. Usually, it takes a third party involvement to get him to take some form of break that spans longer than a day or so. This must be why Lenalee is here; she’s one of the few that can successfully get Lavi to do something with just a simple request.

“Sorry,” Lavi says through a yawn wide enough to click his jaw; it smarts a little, but it wakes his brain up enough to have a conversation with someone besides himself. “Things get busy. So, what’s up? Need anything?”

“Sort of,” She responds, voice raised at the end to form more question than an answer. “It’s not really a request and more of a suggestion. How long has been since you left the Pantheon?”

“Not since the end of World War II.” answer immediate and brain already coming up with possible reasons why Lenalee needs to know that.

It’s not a unique answer; a number of the gods in the Pantheon rarely step foot outside the gilded space they’ve carved for themselves, though many made exceptions when the World Wars sprung up, morbid curiosity and fascination urging them forth. Lavi had to be there directly though, lesser god of history that he is. Bookman had insisted there were too many important events taking place to not have witnessed at least a few with their own eyes.

While Lavi remembers everything he sees, what he vividly remembers from that time is the ache of sore teeth clenched too tightly, sharp feels of disappointment like knives against his heart, and nails constantly digging into the soft flesh of his palms. It was long nights spent pressed against Lenalee’s side, both of them trading different thoughts on the carnage going on around them. Lavi unabashed in his admission for a loss of faith, Lenalee shining bright with her strength and endless amount of hope.  

He used to visit the mortal plane more, proud and interested in the humans the old gods crafted in their image. Now all he feels is numb from witnessing useless wars and acts of violence, constant power struggles and the like. Lavi has long since understood why Bookman insists that gods have no need for hearts, why there’s no need for growing attached to humans that will surely cause their own ruin one day.

“Would you ever go back soon?” Lenalee finally asks; the question posed delicately like the words are made crystal rather than noise.

Lavi turns as much as he can to face her fully, his knees brushing against her legs as he does so. There’s hope in those eyes of hers, shining bright as amethyst gemstones even in the dimly lit pocket of Lavi’s room. He knows what she’s going to ask him; they both know that he’s aware of it now, but Lavi is a thinker and a reasoner more than anything. He’ll hear what has to be said first.

“I haven’t been all that interested, and things have been busy for a while.”

“We had a lot of fun though when we used to go and stay for a week or two in different places. It was like a new adventure every time.” She smiles, warm, nostalgic, and proud. “It was impossible to do the same things twice. Humans are so capable and varied, and Lavi, it’s been so long since you’ve visited. I’m sure you’d have fun.”

Lavi raises an eyebrow, head canted to the side. “Why just me? Are you not going?”

“No, I just went not too long ago. Besides, I’ve been helping Tiedoll with galaxy making, and he’s been really inspired lately.”

“I was wondering why you came in here looking a star went nova on you.” He teases, reaching up flicking the end of Lenalee’s ponytail, causing a small shower of stardust to fall glittering between them.

It’s near rare to see Lenalee without some form of stardust clinging to her with how often she spends forming new galaxies and pouring over the ones that have already formed. It’s not even her domain, creation that is, but she’s one of the best in the Pantheon at it. But it’s easier for her, being made directly from stardust itself gives her the edge of an easier manipulation and crafting. Lavi wonders if she’ll one day be conscripted to form a new god, to coax a divine life with her fingertips akin to how she coaxes stars and galaxies into being.

Lenalee rolls her eyes at the teasing, a hand slapping against Lavi’s shoulder with playful lightness. “Think of it like a way to reconnect when you do go alone. Mingle with a people and all that, live in the moment. It’ll be good for you.”

“Lena, I’m busy. I don’t think I can go.”

“You’ve been busy since the first day I greeted you at the Pantheon’s steps. Your domains are history and knowledge, so you’re going to stay busy.” She sighs then and runs a hand through his unruly head of hair. “Just a week Lavi; just a week to see how things are and take a breather for once. You need it.”

He can’t argue against that because he does need it, feels restlessness curling under his skin and threading through his bones. He’s never been one to stay still for too long, hard to pin down unless you know his habits. But it’s been different now, differently lately now that his interest in the humans that near completely consumed his attention has waned. But history and humans go hand in hand; he cannot ignore them. Perhaps he does need a break, need to realign himself before he grows too apathetic.

“Fine,” he sighs, more resignation than defeat. “You win. I’ll visit.”

* * *

Lavi is sent directly into the apartment he’ll be spending his time in for the rest of the week, or longer if he chooses, Lenalee had reminded him with a smile and push in the direction of the designated gateway. He doesn’t think he’ll stay longer than a week, but it’d be easy to do so if he wanted. There’s an attachment to a seemingly limitless bank account and the rest of the things needed to living comfortably legally wise on the mortal plane.

The only things not directly affected are people’s memories and intuitions; a careful balancing game needs to be played when the gods decide to walk among them, but less so in a city so large and the possibility of seeing the same stranger twice in the same week is rare. There are some gods that can affect the memories of humans if needed, some better than others, but it does against Lavi’s own domain, so it’s too tricky for him to deal with directly. He’ll just need to be careful, but it’s easy being careful.

There’s a low chime that rings out from his pocket from the phone Lenalee shoved in his hand before ushering him away.

It’s from her, of course, the small scrawl of text somehow emitting her genuine care and concern and well wishes. Text me once you’re settled in the apartment. You’ve got some food and clothes already there, but not enough to last you the week since this is about you actually interacting during your stay. There’s a map if you need it and your documents are - and on goes the message along with some suggestions of good places to eat and shop and spend his time.

Lavi decides to shoot her a message sooner rather than later, letting her know that the transfer was fine aside from the slight queasiness to his stomach that came from not having shifted planes in decades. He tells her that he likes the apartment - a simple studio in design with the bare minimum in way of furniture but it has a balcony and the layout doesn’t feel too small for the space. He’ll talk to her tomorrow, he promises, and leaves it at that.

It’s fairly early still, edging on evening, but the sun doesn’t seem to be ready to set for a couple more hours yet. Lavi’s only got enough to eat to last him tonight and tomorrow morning, so he decides that getting out now will be the best bet while he feels up to it.

He’s not far from the closest grocery store, but the number of people on the streets and the steady rainfall that’s started makes the walk seem longer than it probably is. It’s a lot of bodies brushing against each other, just barely skirting out the way, brief seconds of contact going unnoticed, brightly colored umbrellas bumping and sliding against each other, personal bubbles made into reality rather than metaphorically.

With this many people on the streets, it’s easy to stay invisible and be treated as such. Lavi loves small communities where everyone knows each other and has a certain synergy that can’t be replicated, but he also enjoys the solitude that a larger city gives him as well. At least, that’s what he prefers right now.

Getting what he needs from the grocery store isn’t that hard, mind remembering what needs to be done akin to muscle memory. The way things need to be paid for has changed and there are more imported goods, but that’s the nature of change and at least it means he can have a variety to his meals. Payment’s is a lot easier now that all he has to do is swipe a brightly colored card and tap in a few numbers.

Outside the store is a kid that’s been there since Lavi first entered, leaning against the wall with a few bags resting next to his feet, hiding under the awning in a poor attempt to stay dry that would ultimately be futile if the rains were to pick up at any point and the wind starts to blow. His attention is divided between the game he’s tapping away at and the act of occasional looking up, brown eyes searching for something or someone given the area.

Lavi isn’t concerned, per se, about the fact the kid is alone that is. What interests him is the fact that he stays stubbornly rooted in his spot despite the occasional scathing glance from the passing adult as if he’s making trouble by just being there. The kid returns those glares just as intensely, tongue sticking out when backs are turned. He’s used to the indignity of the treatment if the way he steels his shoulders like he’s got bones made of metal and doesn’t break eye contact has anything to say about it, like a soldier fighting his own unique brand of war.

“You alright, kid?” Lavi asks slotting himself in the space near the boy to act as if he’s trying to stay dry as well. There’s enough concern in the tone of his voice that it seems genuine rather than falsely so. He’s just curious, really.

But it’s enough to catch the kid off guard; random acts of concern usually are enough to catch people off guard in cities where the individual self matters more. Lavi gets a wary glance and guarded posture in return a few seconds later, but he doesn’t mind, expected it.

“I’m fine.” The boy answers, there’s a barely there accent curling delicately into the curve of his vowels and pushing gently against his consonants. French, Lavi’s mind supplies. “Just waiting for someone. What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Lavi admits because not everything requires a carefully bent truth. “saw those people glaring at you though. Thought they might cut you some slack if you looked busy rather than just loitering.”

The kid looks genuinely confused for a moment, wide eyes blinking before he blurts, “You’re weird.”

That’s fair, Lavi supposes, but it doesn’t make him feel any less offended by it. Then he’s more offended at himself that he let someone with barely a fraction of his lifespan offend him.

“You want me to leave, I can.”

The kid shakes his head, his hair long and a bright eye-catching blue. There are faded remnants of the same color staining the tips of his fingers too, a recent dye job with maybe a bit too much dye, but ultimately well done for someone as young as him.

“My brother’ll be here soon anyway. He just had to stop by somewhere else, so he let me get the groceries. We weren’t expecting the rain though, and he has the umbrella.”

“That’s cool of him to let you grocery shop, very grown up.”

“I guess,” the kid shrugs, but there’s a tinge of pride curling the corner of his mouth upward and face lights up slightly, like the sun beginning to peak through storm clouds. “It’s not that hard getting the groceries even though Allen -” He perks up then, balanced on his tiptoes and looking at someone past Lavi, he gets a little wet from his efforts, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Allen! Over here!”

Curious, Lavi turns to see the person who the boy was waiting for, and it’s like the world stutters and stops for a brief second before kick-starting itself once more. He’s never seen a person quite so interesting before - all pale skin and pale haired with a scar bisecting the left side of his face. His posture is relaxed as he walks up to them, grip loose even on the leash that leads a pale wisp of a borzoi wearing a bright red vest trotting at his side, his other hand holding the handle of the bright red umbrella.

It’s his eyes though that catch Lavi off guard for a moment; when they land on him, he feels as if he’s being assessed, like everything he’s ever done is somehow on display to this stranger. There’s protectiveness in that gaze of his, dangerous as liquid mercury.

The brief tension and near threatening gaze are broken by the kid who readily closes the distance between himself and the brother he was waiting for - Allen, Lavi remembers the name being said just moments before. A hug is returned as best as possible with a soft smile and a gentle hand running through a messy head of hair, gestures of familial affection. Lavi feels as if this isn’t something he should be privy too, so he turns his head to give the other two some modicum of privacy.

“Sorry it took so long, Timothy.” Words trailed by a heaving sigh. “The line was longer today for some reason. Who’s your friend?”

Lavi turns, not expecting attention to be drawn to him so soon. Allen looks at him with an air wariness and confusion, though there’s a veil of possible forced politeness just covering his tone like thin gossamer. Timothy just looks at him confused, arms still wrapped around his brother’s waist as he hangs off and is accommodated subconsciously.

“Don’t know,” he says with shocking casualty after a few seconds of silence. “he just started talking to me for no reason.”

Lavi tenses immediately because he knows exactly how that sounds like and tenses even more when he catches Allen’s gaze, sharp like glinting knives. Protective in a way Lavi’s only seen in humans and animals protecting their kin.

“I’m not a creep,” Lavi defends immediately, hand thrown up in a gesture of passivity. “people kept glaring at the kid while he was standing there, and I thought maybe if it looked like he was doing something besides loitering, then no one would get on his case about it.”

Allen looks just barely convinced, expression neutral and eyes searching as he hums. “Thanks for that then. Timothy’s been attracting attention since he dyed his hair like he’s offended a bunch of people by doing it.”

“But Allen,” Timothy whines, cheeks puffed in a childish pout. “you said I could dye it because you dye yours. You can’t change your mind now.”

“And it’s fine, Tim. I like it the color; it’s just really attention-grabbing, but so’s mine. You’ll get used to it.” Allen’s attention is trained back onto Lavi, the small polite smile back on his face. “So thanks trying to help him, most people wouldn’t bother.”

“Oh,” Lavi blinks twice and then shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Wasn’t doing much anyway.”

Allen hums again, vague understanding and acceptance. It’s a bit of an awkward silence that stretches for a few seconds; all three of them in a private bubble despite being surrounded by people. It’s broken by the soft whines of the borzoi at Allen’s side, and Lavi watches as it noses into his owner’s palms and shifts from front paw to front paw.

“I know, Tim.” Allen sighs as he absentmindedly pats at the dog’s long snout if this is something he deals with often. “We’re going. We’ll go. Timothy, can you grab the groceries please?”

Timothy nods, eager to help in the way children usually are when he pockets his game and retrieves the bags that are still resting against the wall. Allen automatically takes some of the burden away, letting the straps of them hang on the crook of his elbow and the situating the umbrella until it somewhat successfully covers the both of them.

He gives Lavi one last fleeting and polite smile after double checking everything that Timothy bought. Habitually polite words of departure are spoken as the small party of three disappears into the crowd of people as if they were never there.

In a city this size, Lavi doubts he’ll see them again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good art to match chapter two from [tuxiidomask](https://tuxiidomask.tumblr.com//):  
> [ here](https://tuxiidomask.tumblr.com/post/177884247605/fancy-seeing-you-here-read-here-my-second-piece) & [ here](https://tuxiidomask.tumblr.com/post/177884204025/hold-out-your-arm-eyebrow-raised-lavi-does-so)

Lavi’s third day in the city is spent in an art museum, eye trailing over sculptures and paintings old and new. He recalls some familiar names, remembers when they were novice artists just startingd to let their work free out into the public, putting a faith in masses in a way that all artists do at some point or another. It’s funny though how many of them he remembers are now more elevated in their death; their fleeting lifespan making their creations even more precious.

His domain isn’t art, however, so this trip is really re-familiarize himself with the various movements over the years, to piece together how certain brushstrokes and carvings and subject matter was influenced by the goings on of the world at the time. Tiedoll is more concerned about art for art’s sake and even Kanda is too for as often Lavi has caught the other god sketching in a new notebook each time he looks, though the contents remain one of the greatest mysteries of the Pantheon.

Art isn’t his domain yet Lavi has always liked the atmosphere museums provide— uniform and yet unique to themselves, unique no matter which gallery room he chooses to walk through. No two art pieces are the same, after all; the individuality of humanity is shown in each one, all capsulized in time and readily visible to the public. It’s quiet too save the hushed murmurs of other visitors and tour guides, the steady flow of tapping feet against marble tile, and the occasional bits of laughter from groups of friends. It’s a nice place to be in a place that’s public and yet somehow private.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Lavi angles his head to the side and spots a familiarly pale figure in the form of Allen and the dog at his side, materializing in a way that’s more ghost than human at the suddenness of his presence.

“We met a few days ago, right?” Lavi questions to keep the flow of the conversation smooth, though it’s not Allen is exactly forgettable in his appearance.

“We did,” he pauses then, fingertips raised to tap at his bottom lip in thought for a second before he speaks again. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced though. My name’s Allen.”

“Allen.” Repeats Lavi; he knew this already but figured it’d be odd to point it out. “Mine’s Lavi.”

“Nice to meet you then, Lavi.” Allen says, and Lavi thinks he just might believe the sentiment.

He expects another awkward silence and slightly rushed departure; they’re strangers after all that happened to meet twice in just a few days. A rare occurrence, surely, but not enough to stick around. Lavi’s wrong, however, when Allen sets himself down on the same cushioned bench Lavi’s been occupying for the past ten minutes, his dog changing positions to sit dutifully atop his feet.

“What’s got you at the museum on a weekday?” Allen’s not looking when he asks this question, eyes trained on the large rococo in front of them, leaning back on his palms and posture relaxed.

“Nothing really,” Lavi admits with a shrug and a light tone, “it’s been a while since I last visited one, so I decided today was as good as any.”

“Did you regularly go in the past then?”

Lavi thinks back to when he and Lenalee scoured the numerous exhibits that popped up throughout Europe during the nineteenth century. How they weaved and bobbed through freshly placed sculptures and newly put together skeletons of beasts long since dead; how they scrunched up their noses and held in their laughter when encountering some of the first public aquariums only able to handle the stench of them for so long. It was a good time, no wonder he holds a fondness for museums still, their purpose of holding history aside.

“Pretty often I guess, not too much now that I’m busy.”

“I understand that.” Allen says, his shoulders seem to droop in some form of sympathy. “I’m technically here for an assignment for a class, so I’d probably feel better about this if it wasn’t an obligation.”

“Are you using me to procrastinate?” Asks Lavi, playing up the teasing in his voice in a way he hasn’t done in a while.

“Maybe,” Allen draws the vowels of the words, stretching them sweetly like taffy as he looks to the side and smiles. “but there’s nothing wrong with a friendly conversation with a stranger. Besides, there’s only so many conversations I can have with my dog before people start looking at me funny or he stops listening.”

“Sounds like you just want some company to talk back to you. What’s your assignment anyway? I might be able to help, been to a lot of museums back in my day.”

“You sound old when you say that, but you don’t look that much older than me.” Lavi doesn’t correct him and Allen doesn’t push for a solid age like some people might. “Anyways it’s pretty much just find a piece in the gallery and give a brief research analysis about it. Include historical events that might have influenced it and all that. Easy really, but you know.”

“There’s just so much?” Lavi offers, a tilt to his head as he says so.

Allen brightens and nods then, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear and giving a sheepish smile. “Plus, history isn’t really something I’m interested in, so I never tend to do my best at papers if that’s the case. Why are you looking at me like that, Lavi?”

Really, Lavi can’t help it, the deadpan expression that overtakes his features when Allen admits he isn’t a fan of history. Not a lot of people are, Lavi understands that much, but that doesn’t make him feel any less insulted by the fact it.

“History’s super important. There’s so much you can learn from it. You need to learn to appreciate it, Al.”

He gets sputtering laughter in response as if it’s shocked right out of Allen’s lungs. “Did you just call me, Al?”

“Yeah? It’s short for Allen.”

“Allen’s a relatively short name already, but I’ve been called worse, so I’ll take it. Do you always nickname the people you just meet?”

“Sure,” Lavi shrugs and adds a playful wink, belatedly hoping that’s how it comes across because his eyepatch tends to confuse things for people. “But only the interesting ones.”

“I guess I feel honored then. You’re a friendly guy. You know that, right?”

“I’ve been told that on the occasion.”

“Okay then, if you really are that friendly, do you mind helping me with this project? You seem like you might a history buff and talking to someone else rather than myself will give better results.”

Lavi considers his options and it’s not like he has many things to do outside of either going back to the bookstore or heading back to the apartment to read. There’s something interesting about Allen outside the fact that they’ve somehow crossed paths twice in just a few days. It’s been a long while since a human has so thoroughly captured his attention.

He smiles then, and maybe it’s more genuine than not, but he doesn’t give it much thought. “Sure I will. We’ll find you something so cool it’ll blow all those other papers out of the water.”

“Don’t get my hopes up too high, Lavi. I’ll be expecting an A with your help then.”

Lavi shrugs because, well, he’s been to college more times than he can count by now, and writing papers is second nature to him at this point. He doesn’t say that though. There’s a lot he can’t say, but that’s just the nature of things.

That aside, Lavi finds that he doesn’t much mind Allen’s company like the world’s a bit different in his presence as if he’s seeing it with new eyes. Allen carries a conversation easily once he gets into the rhythm of it— ideas and thoughts flowing smoothly like water over stones. Friendly banter between them is picked up and kept up, Lavi surprising himself with genuine bursts of laughter at Allen’s bone-dry humor and slightly surprised at his brand of intellect.

When they get glared at by old ladies wrinkled soft and smelling like power, it’s Allen who gives them a smile perfect for boys who are bronzed, that sends the ladies blushing and hiding twitters of laughter behind laced gloved hands. He doesn’t seem like the type to have that effect, not with dyed hair and the scar and the too big sweater with a hole in the sleeve he has his thumb stuck through, but he is.

Allen’s got charm and charisma he seems to fluctuate at will, something about it makes all his standout features fade to the background in a way that’s uniquely his and not important enough to point out. Or maybe people do notice them, but something about the way Allen conducts himself keeps people from feeling the need to draw attention to them in the rude way Lavi’s seen happen to others. There’s staring sure, but it usually ends quickly over brief stumble of words and an answer to the question that was asked.  

Allen has lots of questions too; ones that he isn’t afraid to ask, and Lavi enjoys it more than he thought he would. The curiosity is genuine and interest solid and doesn’t seem to wane even though Lavi knows he goes on a tangent when some topics are brought up. He knows a lot but makes sure not to mention everything that he knows because some of it isn’t information privy to most people. Lavi might be able to weave the lie that he’s a history major, but it can only stretch for some things, so he keeps his secrets and histories locked behind his teeth.

There are some things only gods know.

* * *

This is a city of rain, Lavi realizes near the end of his week-long stay. His umbrella has become a frequent accessory on his person, ready to spring open at the first drops of rainfall. He doesn’t mind the summer showers; the sound of rain on rooftops and drumming against windows is a soothing sort, one he didn’t even know how much he missed holed up in the Pantheon as he was. It doesn’t deter people from going about their business either, streets full of splashing puddles and brightly colored rain boots.

It does make the streets a bit harder to navigate through, more bumping shoulders and elbows and nearly stepping on poor feet. It’s been a full day of moving around the city, shopping and looking at how things have changed over the last few decades, and Lavi has lost track of how many times he’s had to say _sorry_ and _excuse me_ from jostling other pedestrians he had trouble seeing. It’s habitual now, every time he feels something bump against him in some way.

It happens again, this time at the crosswalk while Lavi’s waiting for the light to turn green. The feeling of something knocking against his arm isn’t enough to cause him to stumble, but it is enough to catch his attention. An apology passes his lips immediately, head inclined, and umbrella lifted out the way slightly, so he can catch a glimpse of who it is this time.

Lavi’s surprised to see Timothy standing next to him, hair and shoulders wet from the rain and a frown on his face that immediately turns into wide-eyed staring and then recognition after a few seconds.

“It’s you!” He nearly shouts, loud in the way children can often be.

Maybe Lavi would be more surprised if his appearance isn’t as memorable as he knows it to be. The bright red hair and eyepatch are usually the first things to give him away, and in the eyes of someone younger, it all must be terribly striking.

“It’s me.” Lavi replies, inclining his umbrella so it’s covering more of Timothy’s head than himself. “What are you doing out here without an umbrella?”

“I don’t like carrying it,” he sniffs, “and I thought I’d beat the rain before I got back from going to the store.”

“Allen letting you grocery shop again?”

“He’s cooking dinner and ran out of eggs.” Timothy lifts his bag so Lavi can see. “We’re having breakfast for dinner.”

“That's cool.” Agrees Lavi; he thinks he can see the appeal of having breakfast foods past their usually allotted time frame.

“You should join us.” Timothy says with no warning as he begins walking with the flow of the crowd.

It's easy for Lavi to catch up and subsequently match his strides to the boy's shorter ones, question falling once he has the umbrella situated comfortably over the both of them.

“Isn't that a little weird to offer a stranger?”

“Not really.” Timothy chirps and shrugs. “Allen said he saw you at the museum and that you helped him with his paper.”

“True, but I don't think that warrants an invite to dinner.”

“Allen likes you. He wouldn't have said anything to me if he didn't. ‘Sides, he needs more friends since all he does is go to school and come home and sleep.”

“Makes sense.” Lavi says even though it really doesn’t, but he blames Timothy’s childish logic over anything else; school makes people busy after all, and Lavi can see why it might dig into someone’s personal life. To Timothy’s eyes, however, Lavi is friendly and helpful and perhaps even interesting, and that’s all there is to it. No need to overly complicate things. “I’ll at least walk you home.” Lavi continues, “And if Allen says I can stay for dinner, then I’ll stay.”

It’s a well enough compromise if Timothy’s bobbing nod and bright smile have anything to say about it. The rest of the walk is filled with excited chatter from the boy and Lavi showing interest when necessary. Timothy is interesting, and Lavi doesn’t mind children as much as it might seem like he does; they’re easy to get along with and tend to look at the world differently in ways that provides new and odd perspectives.

He does miss a time when he would travel to this plane more often and kids would flock around his feet and beg for stories from his supposed travels and call him ‘older brother’ and the like. Nostalgia over a time since passed is rare and fleeting and something Bookman has drilled to Lavi not to dwell on for too long. Feelings and recordkeeping shouldn’t mix; they live far too long to struggle with both.

Timothy’s steady stream of chatter breaks off into an excited _we’re here_ as the boy runs from the protective cover of the umbrella and up the stairs of an apartment complex. Amused, Lavi follows at a pace a bit more sedated, but fast enough that there’s no impatient foot tapping or the like. By the time he makes it up, Timothy has the door unlocked and widens it enough for the both of them to ease through.

“I’m home!” Timothy says immediately enough that it seems like a habitual thing.

“Welcome back.” Drifts a familiar voice from around the corner, and Allen’s head pokes out. The tone he affixes on his next words is exacerbated but not unkind. “Timothy, you’re soaked. I told you to  grab an umbrella; it’s been raining all month practically.”

The boy shrugs, nonchalant as you please. “I thought I’d be fine, but I brought Lavi and he let me use his umbrella on the way back.”

“That was nice of him.” Allen says and shoots a brief smile in Lavi’s direction. “Now stay there, I’m going to get a towel.”

Once Allen seems to be out of earshot, Timothy tugs on Lavi’s sleeve and whispers: “He usually doesn’t mind, but he just cleaned the floor. He gets really grumpy if things get dirty too fast.”

 _What's the time limit then_ , Lavi wants to ask but finds the words faltering in his throat when Allen steps back into view frown on his face and two towels slung over his shoulder.  

“Don’t pick at me, Timothy.” He scolds lightly, handing off one of the towels to Lavi and crouching down to Timothy’s height for an easier reach to scrub the boy’s hair and shoulders dry of excess water. “Finish drying off and change into something warm. Food should be done soon.”

Timothy scurries off then, and Allen stands to his full height with a stretch.

“Sorry if he dragged you here.” Allen says before walking from the doorway.

Lavi toes off his shoes and follows, giving himself cursory pats with the towel as he goes. “Kid didn't drag me anywhere, just asked if I wanted to have dinner. I was more worried about, you know, barging in and all that.”

“Tim can be like that. Latches onto people fast, I mean. Kinda pushy too when he wants to be, but he's a kid.”

Lavi doesn't say anything to that immediately besides a small hum of acknowledgment, settling for pausing at the entryway to the kitchen where the dog is sprawled out, vestless and lazy, barely moving when Allen steps over. A peek into the kitchen makes Lavi let out a whistle of appreciation half at the amount of food already cooked and half from how easily Allen moves within the small space.

“That's a lot of food.” Lavi observes, gaze bouncing from the stack of pancakes to the pile of bacon back to Allen who's already started cooking the eggs.

“It’s normal for Timothy and me.” Allen answers with a shrug and a light laugh. “There are rarely any leftovers, and if there are they don't last long.”

“You sure I'm not intruding then?”

“Positive, there’s more than enough for three people. But if you want to be useful, you can set the table.”

That's good enough, better than standing around and doing nothing, guest or not. Allen's quick to show Lavi where the plates and utensils are located, not even turning around when he points to the proper cabinet and drawer with the spatula he’s using. The table is a fairly clean space with only a small stack of letters and an anatomy book which all gets pushed to an unoccupied space. Lavi even gets sent to the fridge to get the jar of apple butter. No syrup allowed when they have pancakes for dinner, Allen tells him once he's done cooking the eggs and setting the food on the table because he doesn't want to risk keeping Timothy awake all night.

Speaking of, Timothy finally shows up again clad in what look to be pajamas. He brightens immediately at the sight of the food, scampering past the both of them to sit at the table and piling food on his plate. It’s initiative enough as any for Lavi and Allen to sit down as well.

To say Lavi didn’t believe Allen when the other said he can pack away a lot of food wouldn’t have been a lie; he just didn’t know what to expect, maybe a plate or two at most, a decent amount when this much food is on the table. But no, it’s more than that. Lavi watches with amused fascination mixed with growing concern as Allen and Timothy easily clean their plates and go back for seconds and thirds all before Lavi is done with his own food, and maybe they would have gone back for fourths if he wasn’t here to split the food with.

The food is good though, so Lavi finds himself unable to blame them; the pancakes are fluffy and apple butter not overly sweet and bacon crispy but not burnt and eggs scrambled with cheese mixed in. Simple, but good, and it’s not like Lavi would ever complain about a free meal. The company is nice too even if they don’t talk much with mouths constantly full, though that doesn’t deter Timothy from sharing something exciting that happened to him this past week when he suddenly remembers.

This how Lavi learns the boy plays street hockey and has a tutor named Emilia. Allen pipes in on the occasion as well, mostly letting Timothy have a hold on the conversation and once to remind his charge not to give Tim (which Lavi belated realizes is the dog curled up under the table) any more pieces of bacon or bits of pancake.

It’s nice and comfortable in a way that Lavi realizes he hasn’t had in a while, too holed up in his room and the library to interact much with people these days. Maybe he should find it odd how easily he folds into the dynamics of the two, how easy it is to wish Timothy goodnight once the boy finishes his food and goes into his room to do homework, or how it’s the simplest thing to help Allen clean the table and wash the dishes with little prompting.

They’re kind though, in the way that Lavi hasn’t seen in a long while, genuine with their feelings and seemingly unhurried with lives. Maybe a little too trusting with how easily Lavi is let in, but then again, it’s not like he knows any secrets that they’re keeping, and they don’t know any of his - can’t know any of his.

“I’d walk you home,” Allen says as they both hover in the doorway, Lavi with his umbrella in hand and ready to leave. “but I don’t want to leave Timothy alone this late.”

Lavi shakes his head, a little perplexed at Allen’s continued kindness. It’s not necessary by any stretch of the imagination. “No big deal. It’s not too late for me anyway.”

“I guess.” he hums and looks a little lost in thought before brightening up and rushing back into the apartment proper with a hurried _stay right there._ He’s only gone a few seconds before he comes rushing back, pen in hand and smile on his face. “Hold out your arm.”

Eyebrow raised, Lavi does so and watches as a string of numbers is scrawled on his arm in a glittering purple.

“Text me when you get home safe.” Allen smiles and gives Lavi his arm back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Lavi echoes in a way that makes him feel lame as he scoots out the apartment enough to let Allen shut the door.

How odd, he thinks, it’s been a while since someone has left him so stunned in such a short amount of time.


	3. Chapter 3

At the end of the week, Lavi goes back to the Pantheon, mostly to see what he’s missed and touch base with Lenalee again. He thinks he might stay on the mortal plane longer because Timothy invited him to a street hockey game just the other day and it seems rude to break a promise like that to a kid.

For now, he sits on the floor of the Creation Room and watches as Lenalee forms galaxies with her fingers, constellations crafted from the scatters of stardust that floats around them and settles nestled in the strands of their hair. It’s a pastime she partakes in often to keep her idle fingers busy. Though it is not her domain – creation, that is – she’s one of the best at it when it comes to this sort of abstract construction, paying the certain careful attention needed to make something last millennia afterward.

When she’s done, Lenalee takes the newly formed galaxy and traps it a small glass ball; the cosmos already steadily in motion by the time she tosses it up in the air where it settles against the other entrapped galaxies, the soft sound of glass colliding and chiming in the air for seconds until everything settles once more.

“So,” she starts and sits on the floor next to him once she’s satisfied with her work. There’s a gentle sort of curiosity in her eyes, a shade of anticipation as she waits for an answer.  “how’s it been for you on the other plane?”

Lavi thinks for a few short seconds about all the things he could tell, about how his overall opinion on humans hasn’t changed that much. It’s rather pessimistic, he knows, but before his mouth can form around the words, Lavi also thinks of Allen and how they’ve somehow met three different times despite how large the city is and how there’s something about the young man that’s interesting. Lavi doesn’t know what yet, but he thinks he wants to find out because he isn’t one that’s used to not having an answer.

“It’s been okay,” he settles on saying, nonchalant tone in his voice. “I’ve met a human and his younger brother though, interacted with them a few times. You might like them if you ever meet.”

Lenalee smiles, glad probably that he’s found something to catch his attention, “That’s good. But be careful, Lavi.”

“I know, Lena.” He can’t help but sigh, shoulders hunching lower because he doesn’t want a lecture. “I got the warning from the old man before I even went down. We aren’t supposed to get attached. There’s no reason for us to get attached to humans.”

Beings like them have no needs for hearts, no need for attachments, he’s always been told enough times he doesn’t think he can ever forget it.

“That’s not what I mean,” she shakes her head, stardust falling from her hair and settling on her shoulders. “What I mean is be careful with that human you’re interested in, for his sake more so than your own. He might get more attached to you than you to him. Some people just have that much love and care in their hearts and some hearts are fragile. They feel too much too quickly.”

That seems a bit unreal to even think about, a human caring about him that is. It seems impossible; even, so Lavi just brushes the notion to the side and says, “I doubt it’ll happen, but sure, I’ll be more careful.” 

“I’m happy for you though.” Lenalee continues, scooting close enough that their shoulders brush. “You look...better.”

“Did I look sick?”

“No. No, just, you know? Bored, uninterested, like you could be doing a million different things, but you weren’t going to.”

“I like my job.” Lavi huffs and tries not to sound offended. “I probably shouldn’t even be extending my break this long.”

He must end up sounding offended because Lenalee slips an arm around his waist and holds him as tight as she can, a show of affection that Lavi automatically returns by slinging an arm over her shoulder.

“I know you like what you do, Lavi, and I like what I do too. Everyone needs a break at some point though, and this is your first break in decades.”

“Didn’t have a reason to.”

Lenalee hums, a sound not quite convinced, but she doesn’t say anything, and Lavi doesn’t push her. They just watch the galaxies drift easily around them.

* * *

Lenalee’s warnings in the end ring dully at the back of Lavi’s mind, a constant reminder that whatever sort of life he’s building up is only temporary. He stays anyway, slips in and out of the Pantheon so he can keep up with work, and stays in the city where he met Allen since he does like it – ends up staying around Allen too, for what it’s worth.

Time marches on, a simple steady beat as it passes, fast for some and achingly slow for others. It always passed quickly for Lavi, either a side effect from being removed from time as a god or just because he tends to get so wrapped up in his work that when he isn’t paying attention years end and begin quicker than a heartbeat.

Allen’s presence makes the world slow down a bit, reminds Lavi that the passage of time is only as fast as he makes it. He finds he doesn’t mind it though, slowing down because he has to adapt to a proper human schedule – Allen’s schedule, really. He likes being around Allen, as odd as that may seem at first but the reason steadily slides into the place.

It’s easy being around Allen, similar to how it’s easy being around Lenalee except Allen is someone new and interesting and undoubtedly human. Lavi doesn’t understand it, not really, not fully, but he doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind if days are wasted sitting around and helping Timothy with his homework or getting roped into helping fix dinner because he ended staying later than normal, or sitting in a café reading while Allen sits across from him while studying and pouring over classwork.

The months pass and Lavi asks for more time, summer turns into fall into winter and he asks for more time still. Before he knows it, it’s been nearly a year and Lavi’s made something achingly close to a friend.

It’s a realization he doesn’t know how to deal with at present, so Lavi ignores it just the same and pretends everything’s fine – pretends that Lenalee hasn’t started giving him concerned looks each time she sees him and brushes off Bookman’s own cryptic brand of warning with a shrug and a smile and an _I know what I’m doing. Everything’ll be fine_ even if he might not be completely sure of it himself.

It might take some time, but he’ll figure it out eventually.

* * *

“I’m worried about falling behind on bills.” Allen muses aloud, voice pitched enough for Lavi to hear. His voice still has a barely there rasp to it, a byproduct from the coughing fits, but the color’s returned to his cheeks, and he can eat nearly as much as he wants without the threat of it coming back up.

Allen’s recently recovered from a bout of the flu that Lavi had to nurse him back to health from. It wasn’t pretty, but when Timothy called him out of the blue one day to tell him that Allen had passed out from a fever then there wasn’t any way Lavi could have said no.

It ended in Allen getting a scolding for pushing himself to that level of exhaustion and then Lavi having a small crisis to himself, wondering when in the world did he let himself get attached to a person this much that he’s worried about their well-being.   

Personally, Lavi believes Allen isn’t well enough to worry about bills just yet, but Allen is the only source of income that he and Timothy have; he respects that kind of focus and keeping priorities in order. And Timothy is still staying with Emilia until they can get everything in the apartment properly cleaned and sanitized so there’s less of a risk of the boy getting sick right behind Allen.

Lavi looks down from his place on the couch at where Allen is seated on the floor with papers and envelopes spread out all around him, a pen tapping against his bottom lip and brows furrowed.

“Need help?” Lavi offers. He has a surplus of money that he technically doesn’t need, at least not right away, and he isn’t the type to spend frivolously regardless.

Allen shakes his head and sighs, half distracted as he squints at something, mouth posed in a thin line. Lavi can say with a good amount of certainty that he doesn’t like that look on Allen’s face.

“I can handle this.” Allen finally says after a minute or two, a firm sort of confidence that doesn’t seem realistically possible because of how long he’s been writing numbers and muttering to himself about budgets and bills.

However, Lavi believes in him despite the small inkling of doubt.

Allen stands soon after, stretching with a large heave as he does so. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Nah,” Lavi shakes his head and raises an eyebrow. “but it is like ten at night on a weeknight. Where would we even go?”

Allen smiles, smirks really, mischievous and knowing, eyes bright with a secret, and it piques Lavi’s interest. A lot of things about Allen has piqued his interest and caught his attention because he’s found that he can’t completely know everything about Allen in just a year’s time.

It’s no wonder or surprise when Lavi decides to follow him through the city past the residential district and onto two different subway lines until they reach a district wilder in its life despite the late hour and day. People weave in and out of bars and buildings lit with neon signs, the colors reflecting off of Allen’s snow pale hair in shades of flashing pinks and greens and blues.

Allen leads Lavi with their hands clasped together ( _“So you don’t get lost.” He had said, and Lavi didn’t question it)_ and easily weave them through the crowds and down streets with an ease that speaks of experience and constant exposure. He leads them right to a place that looks as elegant as it does old, finely aged with the passage of time. The building reminds Lavi vividly of swirling skirts as bright as bird feathers and suits tailored with care only to never be worn again. Decadence and vanity mingling often in the careful cover of night, always has no matter the era Lavi has come to note.

The building serves a different sort of purpose now, however, that much Lavi can easily tell by its placement in the city and the discreet way guests enter through the doorway. Amused and slightly taken aback by Allen’s choice of venue, Lavi raises an eyebrow giving a wordless incline of his head.

“It’s a good place.” Allen reassures with a fond eye roll, tugging Lavi’s hand in an urging to continue walking forward. “It’s very classy actually, just a gambling house.”

Lavi fakes a gasp, pleased when the theatrics bring a smile to Allen’s face. “A gambling house? Allen Walker, why I’d never would have thought.”

“Well to be fair, there is a lot you don’t know about me. Consider this a little peek.”

Allen is right about that, Lavi doesn’t know much about him, and in return, Allen doesn’t know much about Lavi. He doesn’t think it puts any sort of strain on their relationship, whatever it might be, because they’re both the type to keep their secrets carefully guarded.

A gambling house though, Lavi would never have expected, but then again, Allen has always been oddly proficient at card games, having even shown Lavi a few tricks during a power outage after a particularly nasty storm a few months back.

They don’t even stop to wait at the back of the line, bypassing the rest of the people with ease and no amount of quailing despite the rude glances and words are thrown their way for skipping. Allen just gives a smile to the bouncer like he’s known them for years, and that’s enough to gain them both access to the inside.

No muss, no fuss.

“I know the owner.” Allen says in response to Lavi’s bewildered stare as if it’s one of the most normal things in the world to admit.

But really, who is Lavi to judge? It’s not that much different than him admitting Oscar Wilde was someone he often encountered at parties back in in the day.  

The inside of the establishment is as well put together as the outside. Simple in its elegance with plush red carpets and employing the use of dark wood furniture wherever needed. It’s a sort of opulent without being obnoxious while also tailoring to the common patronage it seems to bring in. Every person here is dressed in either a finely tailored suit or a jeweled evening gown, cigarette and cigar smoke rising from their mouths like dragon breath; their fine-boned fingers curled around glasses of wine and other spirits.

It’s painfully obvious how much he and Allen stand out: Lavi in his well-worn jeans and sweatshirt, and Allen in his lowriding lounge pants and crop top covered only by the jacket that’s half zipped up. He’d be a fool to think Allen didn’t come here looking like a broke college student on purpose. Already people are eyeing them as if they’re both simple pickings to get easy money off of. Allen seems to not notice or care about the stares, choosing instead to home in on a poker game about to take place in the corner of the room that he takes them to.

The dealer, a person who doesn’t seem much older than Allen himself, spots them both before anyone else at the table. If Lavi wasn’t as observant as he was trained to be, he wouldn’t have caught the quick, knowing glance that’s shared between the two.

This is the workings of a con if Lavi’s ever seen one.

“Will you be joining us, sirs?” the dealer asks, smile in place and voice convincingly cheerful to fit his station.

His words draw the immediate attention of all the others at the table, all which are men who seem well over their forties. Some look annoyed at his and Allen’s appearance while others look pleased, probably thinking it’ll be an easy win if they join.  

Allen, suddenly choosing to be meek in his demeanor, nods as he pulls up a chair and answers: “If you don’t mind having me. I don’t have much money yet, but I hope to make more tonight. College and bills have to be paid for, you understand?”

“Yes, of course, lad. It truly a struggle being young, isn’t it?” replies a man who seems like he doesn’t even know what hard work really means in this day and age.

Another one adds in a nasal tone, “Hopefully you can scrounge up something to help you out. If not, I’d be willing to offer you a loan.”

Allen smiles in a way that Lavi can tell is wholly false but can easily convince anyone that doesn’t know him well enough of the exact opposite. It’s a disarming smile, and Lavi can tell it works on those at the table. Underestimating Allen will be their downfall, that much Lavi is certain of.

* * *

Lavi stands at Allen’s back as the games go on. Allen has a steady fluctuation of winning and losing hands. This seems to set the others at the table into a false sense of comfort, letting Allen fly under the radar as not necessarily a bad player, but neither is he a good enough one to worry about. He makes his poker face seem nonexistent and puts his chips down in a way that seems haphazard and naïve. It’s a good ruse that even Lavi has to compliment how easy it is for Allen to switch between personas and adapt his actions accordingly.

While watching card games has never been an interest of Lavi’s, he’s more than a little excited to see how everyone will react once Allen decides when it’s time to flip the switch on them and get serious in his gameplay.

Lavi’s so focused on Allen’s hand he doesn’t notice someone else walk up to the table until a voice speaks, “I need to borrow the redhead.”

Both Lavi and Allen startle and everyone looks at the new arrival with curiosity. Though he can’t see Allen’s expression, Lavi knows he’s wary by the way his shoulders tense. Well, anyone would be wary when suddenly faced with all six foot something that is Mahoja.

“He’ll be fine.” the woman continues, ignoring the stares, eyes directly locked onto Allen as she speaks. “Anita is only curious about who you’ve brought with you.”

Lavi narrows his eyes briefly, of course, Anita is here; Mahoja would never be far away from her. Now he’s curious.

“I’ll be back.” Lavi ruffles Allen’s hair in a way that he knows annoys him as he stands, but it doesn’t seem to annoy Allen that much right now.

Allen raises an eyebrow instead, looking between Mahoja and Lavi before nodding. “I’ll be here.”

With that, Lavi follows the woman across the floor and up a flight of stairs and down some hallways. He tries to get her to speak, but the few times he does give it a shot, he’s primarily ignored beside the occasional look she’ll throw his way. Mahoja is one of the most stoic goddesses Lavi has ever had to deal with; she’s never been one to indulge him in idle conversation. Not a lot of the other gods are willing to do so either if he’s being honest, not that he can blame them. Lavi likes reading people when he can, and a lot of gods don’t take kindly to that; Mahoja is no different.

After a few minutes of walking, she finally stops and opens one of the more ornate doors, revealing a room more personally decorated for comfort rather than business. It’s a nice place, not exactly fit for a goddess of Anita’s status, but from what he remembers, she’s the humble sort. A lot like Lenalee in that regard.

To greet him once he enters is Anita herself standing regally as a queen in her own castle, and in a way, she is. Lavi is only a guest in her space, though unknowingly on his part. She must be the owner Allen knows so well, well enough to give him free reign of her gambling house and cheat people out of money with no repercussions.

“Thank you for bringing him to me, Mahoja.” Anita says, a soft smile on her face. “You may go back to watching the floor if you choose to.”

It’s obvious that Mahoja doesn’t want to leave Anita, hesitating where she stands, but thinks better of voicing her doubts. She leaves with a bow, but not before shooting Lavi with a look so scathing he’d be a fool not to take it for the warning it most certainly is. He’s a little offended; he’d never hurt Anita.

“She is protective.” Anita says softly, voice impossibly fond. “It’s in her nature to be so, don’t be offended by it.”

Lavi shakes his head and shrugs, “It’s fine. She’s just doing her job.”

“You’re right. Please, have a seat, Lavi. It’s been some time since we’ve spoken, and I feel as though we have much to discuss.”

She’s right on both fronts, so Lavi has no qualms with sitting and talking about some things with her; he just hopes to get his most burning questions answered before he needs to leave. At least it’s easy to find a place to sit; Lavi choosing to take root on a couch so plush it feels as though it might try to eat him whole.

Anita comes back with a tray of tea which she sets down a small table and pours some for them both before sitting down herself in an armchair across from him.

“I’m sure you have many questions.” she starts and takes a sip from her cup. It’s a delicate looking thing with the image of a crane carefully crafted onto it. “Feel free to ask them.”

“I haven’t seen you in the Pantheon for a while.” He starts, takes a glance around the room. “Is this where you’ve been?”

“Yes. I made contact with a human some decades ago, and she let me run the place for her. She was old, you see, and had no children, but this building is important to the community. I couldn’t see it fall under, so I keep it maintained and running as best as I’m able.”

That makes sense, seems like something she would do. “Did Lenalee send me to this city knowing you were here?”

“Perhaps,” Anita shrugs, the dark fabric of her clothes making soft whispers as she moves. “though if she didn’t mention me, to begin with, I doubt that she did.”

That Lavi agrees to that easily because it’s true. Lenalee cares but knows when not to meddle and when she does, she isn’t sneaky about it. Lavi and Anita don’t cross paths often enough where them interacting would make much of difference to them; this meeting tonight is wholly happenstance due to one person.

“You came with Allen, correct?”

Lavi nods his head. “He said he knew the owner of this place.”

Anita looks fond again, a smile lost in the cup of her tea as she takes another drink. “I’ve known him for years now since he was thirteen and Cross dropped him off because he needed someone to watch him for a week.”

Lavi knows the name _Cross_ , has heard it been spoken with annoyance and anger and fond exaggeration all from Allen, usually in one breath. He doesn’t know much about the man outside of what Allen has briefly shared with him though: that he was Allen’s guardian after his dad died and that Timothy fell into Cross’s care after a close friend of his died which left Allen as Timothy guardian and an inheritor of many of Cross’s debts.

 It’s curious how this dead man has left such an interesting space in Allen’s life.

“Does Allen _know_ then?” Lavi can’t help but ask and the hopeful part of him wishes for a _yes_ because that would make things easier on him.

Anita shakes her head, however, and Lavi doesn’t let the disappointment show.

“Allen doesn’t, but he’s a Blessed Child just the same. Cross knew, but that’s really because of who he met first.”

There’s a lot to unpack with just those two statements; Lavi’s mind works hard to piece them together. Allen being Blessed makes sense in a way. It’s a name the gods give humans who have had constant or repeated exposure to the divine and still come out as their individual selves. Nowadays, Lavi knows it’s something most people can’t handle, but he easily remembers the time of oracles and soothsayers and high priests and priestesses in abundance. That’s probably in part what’s so special about Allen; why he seems to exist just to the left of everyone else.

“Cross knew but Allen doesn’t.” Lavi states, not bothering to hide his confusion.

Anita nods and continues. “Cross thought it’d be best if he didn’t know. Has Allen ever spoken to you about Mana?”

“Not outside the fact that he was his adopted dad before Cross took him in.”

“I see, then that isn’t my full story to tell. But Cross knew Mana and his brother Neah. We know them better as Adam, I suppose.”

That is a name Lavi knows well but a god who he has never personally met before. Adam is an elusive deity even to those in his own circle. The two-faced god is his usual moniker – presiding over beginnings and endings, chaos and order. He’s old too, that much everyone is aware of, said to have been crafted from the hands of the now sleeping primordial rather than made of stardust like Lenalee or previously human, like Lavi himself. Adam’s powerful and has a penchant for disappearing, literally splitting in some cases, and going off the grid for centuries.   

“Neah was gone by the time I met Cross, but apparently they were in each other’s orbit for a time.” Anita says, looks a little pensive in her recollection. “Cross described Neah as a whirlwind whenever I could get the stories out of him. I think they were lovers, but he never did want to give me a solid answer about that.”

“And Cross told you all that?”

“Not necessarily, a lot of it was implied, and he shared what he did for Allen’s sake. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Lavi can’t help but ask, but he’s sure he knows the answer.

“In case Allen got curious. In case Neah showed up or Mana decided to come back, or Adam even. In case another god became too interested in the boy. Cross didn’t trust the gods, and I don’t think he wanted Allen to do much of that either.”

 Anita’s demeanor changes more piercing, judging as if she knows all Lavi’s secrets laid bare. It’s then when he remembers her domain and curses himself for forgetting in the first place, for underestimating another god in their own territory.

“You’ve been around Allen for a long time, Lavi. What’s your endgame?” She asks, eerily calm, and Lavi knows you can’t keep secrets from the goddess of them herself.  

 


End file.
